


there are deeper and darker things than you

by SunshineExploder



Series: In The Heights One-Shots [4]
Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Bad Decisions, Drug Use, Dubious Morality, Family Drama, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, but underage because sonny is 15 and pete is 18, kind of i think so anyway, kind of implied sex, no actual sex happens on-screen, pete means well, tiny hamilton reference, usnavi means well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9246419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineExploder/pseuds/SunshineExploder
Summary: "You're way too young to play these games, but you better start."--Or: the fic where Sonny feels like everyone treats him like a child and makes a Bad Decision in order to remedy this. Graffiti Pete can't say no to this.





	

Being fifteen isn’t easy. Being fifteen the barrio is even less easy. It’s a constant tightrope you’ve got to walk, balancing on the line between falling in with the wrong people and never falling at all. Staying still. Stagnancy. Sometimes it seems like the only two choices are to let yourself succumb to the sleepless debt of staying in the barrio or to go completely off the rails, doing everything your parents warned you against.

 

Sonny de la Vega in particular is walking that same damn tightrope.

 

The barrio isn’t his future, he knows that. He has big ideas and wants to make a difference so much that it hurts. But he’s the only teenager on his block, and probably the only one in the barrio who’s so fucking coddled. It seems that being the youngest automatically means that he needs to be taken care of and treated like a toddler. He’s fifteen, not five, but the block doesn’t seem to understand.

 

Since Abuela’s passing and that horrible blackout, Sonny hasn’t risen in anyone’s eyes above his previous comic relief status. He’s still the baby of the block. In fact, he maybe has less credit. Even to Usnavi. The mural of Abuela Claudia convinced Usnavi to stay, but now that he’s staying for good, he’s got an even tighter grip on his little cousin. Sonny gets it, he does, Usnavi is afraid of losing the family he does have. It’s understandable. But does he really have to keep Sonny on such a short leash?

 

There’s been more tension in the de la Vega household lately. The cousins snip and snap at each other way more frequently than before. Some of it probably stems from deep-seated angers left unaddressed, but neither is willing to initiate that conversation. Instead, Sonny constantly begs for independence and Usnavi in turn hardly takes his eyes off Sonny. The man means well, even though he has no idea how to get anything done properly.

Tonight is no different. Usnavi sits behind the counter while Sonny sweeps, and they continue to argue as the sun falls in the sky.

 

“I’m just sayin’, Navi,” Sonny says, trying to keep irritation out of his voice, “I’m not a baby. I can go hang out with friends even when it’s dark. It’s a concept, I know.”

 

Usnavi glares at him. “How many times do I gotta say it, Son? You’re fifteen, you don’t need to be running around at night. The barrio isn’t totally safe, not even our block.”

 

“You let me go before. Remember, when you actually let me have fun? And may I remind you--”

 

“No, you may not,” Usnavi interrupts, but Sonny steamrolls over him.

 

“You only started being such a hardass after the blackout. That was a crazy three days, but things are okay now. Let go of the leash, Cuz. I’m not stupid, I can handle myself.”

 

“You’re staying where you’re safe and I can see you.  _ Mijo _ , you’re still just a kid. You think you can handle yourself, but you don’t know.”

 

That condescending tone has Sonny this close to snapping. He’s so sick of being treated like he doesn’t know anything. He’s not stupid, okay? Maybe he isn’t Nina-level smart, but he knows what’s up. If anyone would take him seriously for three seconds, they’d see.

 

Usnavi goes on in that same stereotypical ‘parent’ tone that grates Sonny’s nerves. “All fifteen year olds think they know everything. I’m your guardian, little cuz, I gotta know what’s best for you. We’re all we have now. I’ve gotta take care of you. One day, you’ll see what I mean, Sonny. You just don’t know.”

 

Okay. Okay, that’s enough. Sonny throws the broom down and ignores Usnavi’s indignant noise. He whirls around on his cousin with one of the darkest looks that’s ever crossed his face. “I know that I’ve had it up to here with this bullshit! I am so tired of you treating me like I’m a little kid, like I’m a moron. Taking care of me doesn’t mean keeping me under lock and key! And if this is your idea of what’s best for me, count me right the fuck out.”

 

And he turns around and runs out of the store. He can hear Usnavi yelling after him, but he doesn’t break long enough to see if he’s being followed. The block blurs around him as he pushes himself as hard as he can. Usnavi’s only twenty-four, he’s still fast enough to catch Sonny if Sonny doesn’t get a headstart.

 

Sonny doesn’t even plan where he’s going, just runs and lets his feet go where they may. The steady sound of his sneakers slapping the pavement is calming that fury, letting it ebb into the back of his mind. He’s no longer full of rage, he’s just tired and wishing someone would act like he’s a fucking person for once.

 

When he finally exhausts himself, he slows to a stop and catches his breath. A glance up tells him he’s run to the shitty apartment complex Pete lives in. This is good. Pete’s his best friend, Pete always listens to him. Pete doesn’t treat him like everyone else does. To Pete, Sonny is special.

 

He doesn’t waste time walking into the building. No one pays him any attention; he’s here so much that there’s no point in even asking Pete to buzz him up. The elevator is old and smells like mothballs, but it’s comforting. The dingy hallway he’s let out on feels like home, more so than his own home right now.

 

Pete’s door is at the far end of the hall. Sonny knocks, and isn’t kept waiting long. The door opens and there’s Pete in a tank top and long ratty sweatpants. A cloud of skunky smoke escapes the room, making Sonny cough. What the hell is that?

 

“What are you doing here, man? Not that it’s not good to see you, but I thought Mommy Usnavi wasn’t letting you out after dark?” Pete asks, not unkindly. He looks confused to see Sonny there, but steps aside to let him in anyway.

 

Sonny walks into the familiar room, and the smell is only more potent. When he sits on the saggy couch, he sees a joint resting in a dusty ashtray. Oh. He’s never tried marijuana, no one’s ever smoked around him. Usnavi gave him the drug talk and told him that if he was ever caught doing drugs, Usnavi would skin him alive. Sonny has never really found a reason to try anything after that. He’s happy enough as it is. Or, he was.

 

Pete comes to flop down next to him. He grabs the joint and casually lights it back up. Looking at Sonny expectantly, he takes a long drag.

 

It only takes that look for Sonny to let loose. “I was at the store and me and Navi were arguing again. We’re always arguing. He kept telling me I’m a kid and I don’t know shit and he knows what’s best for me. Apparently he thinks I’m a toddler who can’t think for myself. So I told him I was tired of his shit and I ran and I was just so mad, Pete, I was so pissed I couldn’t think straight.. I ran here. He’s probably freaking out and looking for me.” He looks helplessly at his friend. “Did I fuck up?”

 

Pete wraps an arm around Sonny and pulls him in for a hug. They’ve always been affectionate with each other, and Pete’s hugs always feel like home. Sonny leans into it, just lets his body go limp and lets Pete arrange them how he wants. He ends up laying back on the couch and pulling Sonny up to basically lay on top of him, half in the space between Pete and the actual couch. The joint gets put out in the tray again.

 

“You did what you had to do. He’s been treating you like shit. Let him freak out. He’ll end up tiring himself out anyway. You can crash here with me. I’ll take care of you, man.” Pete isn’t fond of Usnavi, Sonny knows that. Even if he was in the wrong, Pete would tell him to let Usnavi worry. But it still feels good to have someone on his side.

 

Sonny sighs and lays his head against Pete’s chest. He’s short enough to have his feet barely even with Pete’s and still have his head on his friend’s chest. It’s warm and nice. He doesn’t feel so angry and tense with Pete here.

 

“I just don’t know what to do, Pete. His skull’s so damn thick, the only one who can get through it is Vanessa. Everyone treats me how he does, though. Like I’m just comic relief. They don’t see me as a person, they see me as a kid. I don’t know how much more I can stand, y’know?” he asks, sounding tired. He’s out of ways to make anyone see him as more than a naive idealist.

 

There’s a bit of comfortable silence before Pete asks, “Wanna get high?”

 

Sonny’s eyes widen and he pushes himself up, propping himself on Pete’s chest with his bent arms. “Are you for real?”

 

Pete shrugs as best he can under Sonny. “Sure. It’ll make you feel better.”

 

“I don’t know, man. I’ve never...I ain’t tried anything before,” he says nervously, biting his lip. He knows Pete won’t be a dick about it, but he still doesn’t like looking inexperienced.

 

“Look, if you’re nervous, we can shotgun it.” 

 

Pete’s suddenly got this look on his face, a glint in his eyes that reminds Sonny of this picture he saw of a fox looking at a rabbit. Scheming, predatory. Still, he asks, “What’s shotgunning?”

 

He’s pulled up until his face is right by Pete’s. His cheeks turn pink as he watches Pete pick the joint back up and manage to light it behind Sonny’s back. Then he takes a hit off it. Once he’s filled with smoke, he grabs the back of Sonny’s head and pulls him close like he’s going to kiss him. Sonny’s mouth falls open in a gasp and then Pete’s breathing out the smoke into his mouth, their lips barely brushing.

 

It doesn’t taste good, but he tries his best to hold the smoke in. By the time it’s curling around his lungs, he’s coughing and turning his face away. Pete grasps his chin, though, pulls him to look him in the eyes.

 

“How’s that, Sonshine?”

 

The nickname makes Sonny blush even more. “Tastes like shit, but I don’t hate it,” he mutters. 

 

“Try again?”

 

Sonny nods. Another drag, another almost-kiss. It’s marginally easier this time, now that Sonny knows what’s going on. They do this a couple more times until his head is pleasantly fuzzy. He doesn’t know where the joint’s gone, and he hardly cares. His head is tucked in the crook of Pete’s neck, lips resting on the skin but not kissing.

 

Pete runs his fingers languidly over Sonny’s back. “How d’you feel?” he asks.

 

And Sonny’s voice is just as hazy as Pete’s when he slurs, “‘M feelin’ great, Pete. M’ head just...yeah.”

 

As Sonny speaks, his breath fans hot across Pete’s skin and his chapped lips feel like the edge of something beautiful. Pete laughs a little, says, “Careful with them lips, Sonshine. Could drive a man to make mistakes.”

 

It’s just a tease, the same play-flirting they always do. But Sonny pauses for a moment. His thoughts drip sweet like honey, and Pete somehow seems like a very good decision. So Sonny gives in to the nice, cloying idea and kisses Pete’s neck for real.

 

Pete gives a minute shake of his head. “Don’t start something you ain’t gonna finish.”

 

Sonny starts dropping kisses up and down the side of Pete’s neck. In between kisses, he says, “I can finish it.”

 

After a few more indulgent seconds, Pete gently pulls Sonny away from his neck and up to look him in the eye. “You don’t know what you’re doing, Sonny. You’re high.”

 

Sonny whines, leans down to rest his forehead against Pete’s. “Don’t treat me like Navi. I know what ‘m doing. Not stupid.”

 

Pete strokes a thumb over Sonny’s cheek with a small smile. “I know you’re not stupid, man. You’re my Sonshine, you’re smart and you care so much. But you don’t know how to play this game, not like I do.”

 

“So teach me!”

 

Those puppy dog eyes will be the death of Pete. He shuts his eyes against them. “You’re only fifteen. You don’t need to be playing the same games as me.”

 

And Sonny thinks he knows what Pete means. Through the thick molasses in his mind, he remembers Pete talking about how he started doing sexual stuff with both girls and boys when he was even younger than Sonny. He always called it a game, since nothing was ever serious. Sonny’s a virgin and hasn’t ever really done anything with anyone, but right now he really wants Pete. He really, really wants Pete.

 

“You’re only eighteen. Not that much older,” he mumbles before finally kissing Pete, sloppy and slow.

 

Pete lets it go on because come on, this is his Sonny. He’s loved Sonny for over a year and yeah, he’s high and still trying to be the responsible one, but this is something he’ll let himself have. He has to pull away, though, and he says, “Old enough for this to be not okay.” Well, it’s technically legal. Still.

 

Sonny comes close enough to share breath, whispers, “It’s okay. Please, Pete, let me play. I can do it.”

 

No, no, this is a bad idea. Pete shouldn’t give into this. Even though Sonny is looking at him with big, wet eyes and pink lips that are begging to be nibbled. Sonny wants it and he looks so gorgeous.  _ Lord, show me how to say no to this _ , Pete thinks to himself. “This game isn’t for you. You’re better than this, than me.” He sounds desperate, pleading with Sonny to understand why this shouldn’t happen.

 

Then Sonny is tangling their legs and this is the hardest thing Pete’s ever done. Especially when Sonny tells him, “You’re my best friend. If you care about me, you’ll let me play. Won’t treat me how everyone else does. You’re better for me.”

 

Yes, Sonny knows what’s best for himself. He’s not a child. No one can treat him like a child anymore. He feels triumphant in his addled mind, especially when Pete finally hauls them both up off the couch. They stumble into the bedroom where Pete pushes him on the bed, climbs on top of him. Hovers there, just staring at Sonny for a moment.

 

_ I don’t say no to this. _

 

“I’ll show you how to play, Sonshine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know I guess I'm still in the mood to write this kind of "sort of dubcon but definitely dubious morality" angst story from the Lams fic. Go figure. I didn't see enough angst for this pairing so here.
> 
> Unedited as always. Really, you should be used to that by now.
> 
> Title and summary are from I'm Not The One by 3OH!3. That song basically inspired this fic and I would use it to continue this into a multichapter thing if anyone wanted.


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